


flung out of space

by snsk



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Angel!Phil, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7867528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Phil is an angel, confirmed." - Dan Howell, <em>A Day In The Life Of Dan And Phil In Australia</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	flung out of space

**Author's Note:**

> "My angel. Flung out of space." - Carol Aird, _Carol_

The angel’s name was Flaef. But early on Flaef had begun to realise that humans were smarter than they wanted to be, most of the time. Sometimes they even remembered what mattered.

And so Flaef was Philip - Phil, in the hurried, abbreviated, joyous mess that was the 21st century. And Phil hadn’t _fallen_ as much as asked permission to come down to take notes. Observing detachedly from above, as much as his colleagues enjoyed the little effort it took, wasn’t the same as - well. In his field, anyway.

It was quite possible that he _had_ Fallen, considering the things he’d done, in the, um, interests of research. He still didn’t fancy returning to check, though; it was also quite possible they’d just forgotten all about him, given how much they had going on up there. Either way it was the 21st century already and Phil hadn’t really much liked a large part of the last one, had spent most of it asleep, so this was pretty great. Hair dryers and televisions and video games and balloons, and the _internet._

And it was quite possible he’d made a YouTube account and started posting videos, just for kicks. Divine beings had to have their fun. And there was no need to tell the Metatron he secretly _enjoyed_ the attention. It was effusive and impersonal and volatile and passionate and detached, all at the same time, and there was none of the _getting attached_ that Above so highly frowned upon. Hate? Frown and report. _I think we should be more than-_? Type out a gently discouraging reply and quietly and steadily interact less until they got the message. Things were too easy, on-the-line, as Zuphlas had pronounced it when Phil had met up with him last - Zuphlas being a co-worker that had also chosen to stay amongst the Humans.

But Zuphlas, angel of trees, was rapidly losing any motivation to stay. Whereas Phil still intended to, for a long time yet at least. The Internet was introducing him to various other aspects of humans relevant to his field of interest. He smiled and studied and touched and catalogued. It was kind of amazing, until.

The Internet also - there was a boy.

It wasn’t _getting attached._  But there was a boy who was - who was very, very young. Who was smart and bright-eyed and funny and soft-edged. Who said, painfully sincere, _I need to see you_ , and sometimes it was sexual, which was fine, and sometimes it was just - longing, which was not.

It was not, and Phil said yes anyway.

When the boy kissed him, the swoop of his stomach felt an awful lot like the world being remade. Phil should know.

When the boy lay under him, pale and fragile and sweetly dimpling, his wings threatened to come out, something that hadn’t happened in centuries, in ever, in-

When it was over, he’d forgotten all the words for _You’re so lovely, but this isn’t a - a serious-._ Instead, what came out was _I think I’ll be free next month, if you want to-_

The next time he caught up with Hadra, she was painting peach-pretty polish onto her toes, staring out of a rainy shopfront in Jakarta. She embraced him and told him what she’d been up to - about how a kingdom was overturned for a queen’s love for her servant, and asked how he he’d been, the last several decades or so. He said _good thank you_ , and hesitated before saying _I’ve got a friend._

When she repeated the word, he found himself backtracking. _Roommate_ , he amended. _He needs a place to stay? At uni? He’s pretty great, as humans go. He’s_ -

She was watching him too closely. He made himself stop.

She sighed his name.

_I’m not getting attached._

_Not what I meant,_ she said. And they both ignored the fact that he had told a barefaced lie to one of their own, and there in itself was the answer to the question she had not asked. But she embraced him, before he left. Before he left for home.

And at home the boy smiled at him and asked _where’ve you been, then?_ and Phil shrugged and said _I got us Indonesian peach tea!_ and held it up, and didn’t mention it was in an Indonesian coffee shop four minutes ago. The boy said _yes!_ , and held out his arms to be cuddled, because he hadn’t moved from the bed all rainy, dreary morning while Phil had been out, of course he hadn’t. And there was the answer as well.

And the answer was this: that the boy’s soul shone brighter than the dying stars above, and Above as well. And yet it did not burn. Phil could touch, and not be burnt. It was warmth. But it was not fire.

This should not have been possible.

And the answer was this: that the boy fortified and infuriated and believed in and _loved_ Phil, in all the terribly whole-hearted ways that humans did these things, and and in doing so made _him_ more human than he would ever have believed possible.

Flaef had not Fallen. Flaef had applied for a transfer to Earth because what he had seen of early humanity fascinated him, its quirks and sensualities and evils and affections, and They had approved it and sent him down with a _good luck_ the way you’d raise your eyebrows but not complain at that one group member volunteering to do more than their share. Flaef had done his job extremely well thank you very much, billions of years of findings marveled at and catalogued and analysed dispassionately, now all the data overriden by fresh intelligence on the sounds the boy made at night, muffled into Phil’s skin, and the way his shoulder brushed against Phil’s when people were watching, and how the house they would own together would have a space for his piano. And Flaef had not fallen from heaven, but Phil would, gladly, for this boy.

Phil did, every single day.

“You’re the angel,” he found himself murmuring, worshipping the fragile barrier of Dan’s skin. Here, there, he pressed fearful, reverent kisses. He whispered the words prayerfully so the god they were meant for would hear. “You’re the angel.”

“Alright,” Dan said, amused. “I knew that. Come up here and kiss me like you mean it.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is good omens type angel s/o to one of the best books ever written  
> \- in the cabala, flaef is an angelic luminary who deals with human sexuality  
> \- hadraniel is an archangel in charge of love  
> \- hit me up on snsknene.tumblr.com/ask so i can talk about my angel!phil hcs


End file.
